


Aliases

by blackholenipples



Category: CHERUB - Robert Muchamore, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, no prior knowledge of either fandom needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackholenipples/pseuds/blackholenipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Agreste, the French fashion mogul is suspected of having ties with the drug ring behind the creation of the powerful and hyper-addictive hallucinogen: "Akuma". KWAMI, a secret intelligence organization operating under the British government, has a plan to get more information; Send in two operatives to get close to Gabriel through his twin sons Adrien and Felix.</p><p>The catch?</p><p>Those operatives are highly trained, highly lethal teenagers.</p><p>"KWAMI agents have one crucial advantage: adults never suspect that children are spying on them.<br/>For official purposes, these children do not exist."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliases

**Author's Note:**

> All KWAMI procedures and gear are based off of those used in the CHERUB books. More at http://www.cherubcampus.com/data/cherub-world-facts-information.aspx

At midday, the rain was heavy and the sky was dark enough to hide a dark-clad group of three from anyone who wasn't already aware of their position. Luckily for them, the security team assigned to guard the post, fairly significant in the operation of the Enbridge Pipeline, wouldn't arrive until three days hence. They would be here a week before the newly-completed control center was to be operational. This opening was exactly what Dr. Madeleine Laurent, a professor of ecology at the University of British Columbia, needed to stage the most significant attack yet in her battle against the cross-Canada oil pipeline. The group was small, but each one of them had been hand-picked for the mission's highest chance of success. 

Mason Abbott was an ex-military demolitions expert. He had been diagnosed with lung cancer six months ago and discharged shortly after. Patricia Stern was a structural engineer who had worked in construction her entire career. First building things, then finding the most efficient way to demolish them. Neither of the two had ever before been a part in any sort of criminal endeavor, and were understandably apprehensive.

The fourth member of their team appeared on the opposite side of the fence with a pair of wire cutters in hand. Her teammates waited, breathless, as she made her first cut. All four of them let out a relieved breath when she didn’t get electrocuted. She quickly cut enough of the wires to let herself out.

“The security station was exactly like you said it would be.” She said in a low voice to her companions. “I did just what you told me to. The cameras should be turned off and there was no alarms set off. I also checked the monitors and didn’t see anyone or any cars. If your information is correct, nobody will notice anything has happened until the security guys get here in a few days.”

Mason nodded at her report.

Sixteen-year old Brianne Lee was the least obvious person to have been brought along on the mission. She was of a typical Asian build. Small and slight, she looked out of place in her dark raincoat and pants. Her blue eyes hinted at mixed parentage, but she had none of the obvious size or strength granted to her Caucasian relatives. 

Those eyes currently had an edge of hardness that implied the girl was either highly dangerous or had seen hell and survived. The muscles under her clothes and the scar on her left shoulder said both.

Her combat skills were hard-won. The demonstration of said skills in a brawl at a PETA rally three months before had caught Madeleine's attention. That and the fact that she was too young to be an undercover cop had made her invaluable as a member of the Canadian branch of Help Earth, arguably the most dangerous eco-terrorism group in the world.

Unfortunately for Madeleine, she was the perfect age to be an agent of KWAMI.

Bri stood watch as Mason and Patricia started pulling sealed packages out of a backpack at their feet and went over the building schematics and bomb placement one last time. Madeleine and Mason were to be one team, in charge of the east side of the building while Patricia and Bri would take the west. Since Mason was ex-military, it had been decided that Patricia would be the one in possession of his gun, in case the two women encountered something Bri couldn’t handle. Madeleine, Patricia and Mason argued in low voices. Bri stared out into the rain.

The rain, she mused, would give anyone else in the area the exact same coverage it gave their group. And really, who could expect her to see anyone moving stealthily through the wall of trees that ended eighty meters from their current location. Especially if the hypothetical group were wearing the dark uniforms of the Emergency Response Team of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Bri would have bet on there being somewhere between six and eight police officers. She would have lost.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" A voice shouted "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR TERRORIST ACTIVITIES."

Dr. Laurent did as the officer holding a megaphone and a gun directed. Her companions did not.

Patricia reached towards her left coat pocket. One of the four officers shot. The bang was clearly audible over the sound of the downpour. Madeleine flinched but made no sound as Patricia fell backwards, a hole in her forehead. One of the other cops kept a gun pointed her way while the shooter approached the body. There was nothing in any of the pockets.

The other two officers ran after Mason, who had sprinted in the opposite direction of the cops as soon as they’d appeared. So had Brianne. While the police were weighed down by Kevlar vests and rain-soaked uniforms, she was wearing light running pants and a Gore-Tex jacket. Nothing that would hinder her in a fight except for the pistol in her pocket and the four-inch knife strapped to her upper thigh.

Mason was fit for a forty-five year old, but he still didn’t stand a chance against a sixteen year-old participant in the rigorous KWAMI fitness and fighting regime.

Bri tripped him into the mud with a flying tackle that would have made several international rugby players jealous. The force of it made them skid what felt like a hundred meters, leaving an ugly brown track of mud and upturned grass against the vibrant green grass and brush all around it.

They came to a stop with Bri still hanging onto Mason's legs, but the young woman had been winded by the fall and subsequent skid. Her few seconds of dizziness gave him the chance to give her chest three hard kicks and free himself. He stood up. She’d proven to be able to catch up to him easily, so he aimed a kick at her knee as she got up to disable and give himself the chance to run away. He was a good fighter, but she was fast. Too fast to see moving, as she was suddenly on his left side. He caught the glint of metal in her hand as she pivoted on the ball of her foot to whip out a kick meant for his head. He barely managed to duck, let alone block and grab the leg as he would have with a different opponent.

He didn’t get a chance to stand up again before there was a heaviness in his side and he felt a blazing pain. He lashed out an arm but Bri had jumped back, several steps out of his reach. She had the barrel of a familiar gun pointed at his forehead. He hadn’t even heard the first shot.

A few seconds later, the gun was on the ground and both of them were being handcuffed by the officers that had been chasing them. Bri was quiet and complacent as she was restrained. Despite his blood loss, Mason swore and kicked at the officers holding him down.

From the opposite direction, two others were approaching on horseback at a thundering pace. There was a curious contraption strung between them. When they got close, the horses slowed down. The two beasts were so exactly in sync that it was almost eerie to watch. They loaded Mason on and galloped away.

Bri got a more classic walking escort to the police cars parked on the one road that led to the compound. She was silent as they loaded her into the back of the car.

She didn’t speak during the ride, while they questioned her. She didn’t speak when she was placed in a cell for juvenile criminals that were considered “too dangerous for group cells”.

She didn’t speak when, after less than twenty minutes later, a woman in a suit with a mysteriously high security clearance came to pick her up.

She didn’t speak until she was in the passenger’s seat of a rental car and Tikki had pulled off both her blazer and heels for the drive to the nearest airport.

“So Brianne,” the KWAMI Mission Controller, Tikki Mariquita, began with a grin. “Are you going to go have a burger, or will you join me and keep to the diet of rabbit food?”

Brigette Cheng let out a tired laugh. Half-asleep, she barely managed to mumble; “I hate the name Brianne.”


End file.
